The Consequence
by LinneaL
Summary: Coulson's team has finally stepped over the boundary (are you really surprised?), and at the Hub, they aren't too happy. This time, the team's actions have consequences. Consequences, in the form of one of S.H.I.E.L.D.s most dangerous prisoners. AU from around Turn, turn turn (that is, no Hydra, no betrayal from Ward, no collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D.).
1. Prologue

**_A/N: _**_So, this is something that has been in my head for some time so I thought I would give it a try. The story is set some time after what is happening on the show, a year maybe. I'm hoping to make it multi-chaptered and probably pretty long. Let me know what you think and if you're interested in reading more!_

**_Disclaimer:_**_I don't own any of Marvel's characters. I own my original characters and the story._

* * *

_Prologue_

The prisoner was secured to the sturdy metal chair tightly, and the chair was bolted to the stone floor. The rather broad table was also that bolted to the floor. Come to think about it, the only mobile objects in the room, was the light, plastic chair on which the negotiator sat, and the negotiator himself. He was S.H.I.E.L.D.s finest, brought in for this particular negotiation with one of S.H.I.E.L.D.s top risk prisoners. Thus the extra safety measures. The negotiator was not allowed to bring the briefcase he usually took with him everywhere he went, and was separated from the prisoner with the unusually broad table. He also knew that, at any given time, there was several guns pointed at the prisoner, and that the dark, padded cell would fill with gas as soon as there was any signs of trouble. The gas being the air borne dendrotoxin Agent Simmons had perfected after Centipedes crude version, of course, and the guns filled with the same. Both were at a concentration enough to knock out both persons in the room for two weeks straight. They were assigned as such to give time to move the prisoner back into the secure cell the prisoner normally inhabited down in the Casket, one of S.H.I.E.L.D.s most secret prisons, and one of the heaviest guarded. By all rights, a prisoner of level 9 should not be allowed a live negotiation, should have been forced to remain in the cell and communicate via technology. But the prisoner had requested live negotiation or nothing at all, and for it to occur at ground level. By all rights, a level 9 prisoner should not be taken up on such a request, but this prisoner was an exemption for many rules. And S.H.I.E.L.D. needed the information the prisoner had badly. Very, very badly. Badly enough, to do virtually anything to receive it, and in this case, that meant pleasing a level 9 prisoner.

_She don't look the part,_ the negotiator thought to himself as he waited for the psychologists on the other end of his comms to give him go-ahead to start the negotiation. But he wasn't stupid, he knew very well that looks could deceive, and he also knew she was the only level 9 prisoner not to have started out that way- the only prisoner ever, in fact, who had risen to a level 9 risk through what she had done _after _she had been contained. The prisoner was small; she didn't look to be much over 160 centimetres. She was not particularly bulky either- although if you looked closer, you would see she consisted of nothing but sleek muscles. She was looking down at the moment, and had been ever since the negotiator entered the room. Her face was covered by her hair, which was a bit longer than shoulder-length. He figured it probably used to be curly, but now, ingrained with dirt and not washed for what seemed like (and probably was) year, it was just… a large mess. The colour was largely undistinguishable. The psychologists had told him he was to wait until she looked up before initiating any conversation, so he had the time to muse over her hair as minutes ticked by. The negotiator was far to experienced to show any nervous ticks as the minutes dragged out into an hour. There was a reason he had been picked for this job, after all. Still, he could not help but think: _finally, _when she eventually did look up. She looked up, the hair fell from her face and the negotiator, no matter how experienced, could not help but gulp a bit too loudly. There was screaming in his ear as the psychologists scolded him on his reaction. The prisoner was sickly pale, although that was only to be expected considering the amount of time she had spent underground. Across her face ran a large, ugly scar, starting above her right eye and ending under her left chin, buckling as it went. Above her left eye and at her hairline, she had an oddly-looking burn, where no hair grew. And these were only the most noticeable scars, if you would look closer, you would see countless more. But it was not her paleness, nor her scars, that made the negotiator flinch. It was her eyes. They were dead. They were dead, and absolutely menacing as she turned them onto him. Afterwards, he would realise that he never knew what colour her eyes were, only how it felt like to look into them, and see Death. A small, humourless smirk played at the prisoners lips when she took in his reaction. He quickly composed himself and prepared himself to start talking, but was stopped once again by the people in his ear, telling him he needed to let her go first. She stared at him for quite a while, but after the initial shock and swallow, he did not show any more signs of nervousness under her dead stare- he was after all S.H.I.E.L.D.s finest.  
\- So, here you are. They actually did send for Gerhard M. Reuter. You are a bit of a disappointment though, I have to say. Her voice was horse, having not been used for some time. The negotiator opened his mouth to answer but she was faster;  
\- No, don't speak. I'm not interested in hearing you talk. I am going to tell you what my deal is for giving you the information you so desperately crave, and you are going to agree. The negotiator opened his mouth again;  
\- I SAID, don't talk. I have my terms, and they are not negotiable. I know very well how badly you need the information I hold, and so you are going to agree to my terms. I said, don't talk! You are to listen. And S.H.I.E.L.D. listened. And they discussed. But she was right, they needed the information, bad. So, extremely reluctantly, they agreed to the terms of a level 9 prisoner.


	2. One too many broken protocols

_Chapter 1- One too many broken protocols_

The Hub was buzzling with activity and Skye, Jemma and Fitz could not help it but feel a bit excited. It had been a while since they last visited. They were talking and laughing, and walked with a bounce to their steps, even though they well knew they had not been called for a courtesy visit. They had finished their last mission a few days ago, and it had been tough on all of them, so it was nice to get a little break. A little stress-relief. The whole team had been requested to appear at the Hub, but once they had gotten there, it was only Coulson who had been asked to follow the waiting S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, the rest of them had been dismissed. So Skye, Jemma and Fitz were happy, and took the opportunity to enjoy themselves a little. Ward and May however, did not seem to share the trio's excitement, and both looked rather grim as they followed the young agents along on an extensive exploration of the Hub.

It took Skye until lunch to notice that Ward and May's quiet was not their usual quiet, and that something might actually be up. She leaned into Ward in order to avoid ruining FitzSimmons good mood, and whispered to him:  
\- What is going on? Why are you and May so down? He put down the egg-sandwich he had been staring at as if it held all of life's answers, and quirked an eyebrow at him and May being "so down". But then he sighed a small sigh and answered quietly.  
\- I just think… that we might really be in trouble this time.  
-Why? Skye asked, incredulously. I mean, I know we broke a few protocols last mission, but we have done that many times and although it has always meant a bit of trouble with the higher ups, a little extra paperwork and some boring-ass routine missions really isn't so bad. I don't think you should get all moody and depressed because of it. Ward gave a short, dark chuckle.  
\- I know Skye, but I'm afraid it will be different this time.  
-What makes you think that? What makes this time so special? Ward looked around a bit uneasily, stared at his sandwich some more and then finally faced Skye who was waiting patiently on him to answer.  
\- It's just a feeling. We've never been called to the Hub before for a minor scolding, much less by Victoria Hand herself… And May and I are level 7's. We're usually brought along for these kind of things. I don't know I just… I think we might have finally crossed the line this time. An uneasy feeling started to settle down in Skye's stomach, and her bubbly mood from before was long gone.  
\- Doesn't Coulson have an unlimited free-pass on bad behaviour? I mean, because of the whole Fury-trying-to-make-up-for-him-dying-and-for-bringing-him-back-without-asking-thing?  
\- Sure we have been allowed more freedom than most S.H.I.E.L.D. teams because of that, but it could never last forever. You know well S.H.I.E.L.D. relies on the system, and for it to work they can't allow anyone to deviate from it too much, or for too long.  
\- And there's no way Coulson hasn't just been called in to be briefed on another mission? Skye asked, a bit hopefully.  
-Sure he could have been…, Ward answered hesitantly, but when he saw the hope bloom in Skye's eyes he quickly added; but I really don't think so. Skye's face fell. She was quiet for a while, and so was he. FitzSimmons were talking excitedly about some apparently revolutionary set of alien technology recently discovered, and they had yet to notice that anything was amiss. May was sitting up straight and scanning the surroundings, just as she had been for the entire meal. Skye stirred her milkshake with the straw, took a few sips and stared at the light pink substance.  
\- Do you regret it? Skye's voice was so low Ward had to strain in order to hear what she was saying.  
\- Do I regret what? Skye let the straw fall and turned her eyes on Ward, intently searching his face.  
-Do you regret breaking protocol? On this last mission? Ward sighed and closed his eyes. He then opened them again and returned her searching gaze.  
-No, he answered firmly, I do not. We did the right thing, the only thing we could possibly do. That girl… I honestly do not believe we've ever broken a protocol without there being a good reason for it- well, not an important protocol anyways. I just don't think others at S.H.I.E.L.D. see it the same way. Skye nodded solemnly, as if he confirmed what she had thought.  
\- Good, she said, if we haven't done anything wrong, then we can face whatever they throw at us, we can face it together. Ward looked at her in surprise. He admired her optimism. She looked back at him, and in her eyes was a look of sheer determination. He couldn't help but admire that too. He gave her a small smile.  
\- I guess we can. She returned his smile with a small smile of her own.

* * *

_At the same time, in a small briefing-room restricted by level 8 access. _

\- You can't assign us a 0-9-7 mission. 0-9-7 missions are voluntary, Coulson protested, baffled.  
\- I can and I am, Agent Coulson, Victoria Hand answered coldly, hands behind her back. You have broken one too many protocols. Director Fury might have turned a blind eye to your team for some time, but you knew as well as I that couldn't last if you insisted on continuously breaking important protocols. Actions have consequences, Agent Coulson. Coulson straightened up and mimicked Agent Hands rigid position.  
\- So, this is it, then? He asked. Agent Hand snorted;  
\- Don't act like I'm handing you and your team a death sentence. It isn't necessarily. Besides, no one had volunteered for the mission, and time was running out. S.H.I.E.L.D. needs it carried out immediately and you were the only team readily available. The 0-9-7 isn't a difficult mission- it requires minimum skill.  
\- But maximum danger? Victoria Hand gave Coulson a venomous look at his bitter retort.  
\- Actions have consequences, Agents Coulson, she reminded him. He sighed.  
\- And what are our consequences?  
\- Your mission is simple enough, you are to carry out the terms of agreements with one of our prisoners. She has requested some partial freedom, where she gets to accompany a small mobile team without any restrictions of movement at the base of operations- that would be your Jet in this case. You are to carry out some of S.H.I.E.L.D.s most basic missions, such as transporting packages of minor danger, whilst she is on board, and she is to be allowed to exit the aircraft at every landing. When exiting the aircraft she is not allowed to move wherever she wants, though, and is supposed to be closely supervised by at least two senior agents at all times. You'll find all the details on how to handle her in the mission briefing, it is quite extensive. I recommend you and all your team members to read it thoroughly before picking up the prisoner, there can be no mistakes with this one. Coulson accepted the folder Agent Hand was extending.  
\- So, how long are we supposed to look after her? And what is the prisoner's level?  
\- She is to stay with you for two weeks. After that she has agreed to give us the second half of information we need, the first part is to be divulged before she departures with you. She is a level 9 prisoner. Coulson dropped the mission briefing he had begun to look through.  
\- She is _a what?!_ Who is she?!  
\- That is not vital information to your mission, Agent Hand replied, untouched. Coulson stared at her blankly.  
\- Hang on…, he said and quickly skimmed through the pages of the dropped mission briefing. There is _no _information on the prisoner we are supposed to guard for _two weeks?! _ We're given _nothing?! _And you are letting a team of _6 _people,of whom _two _are_ not _combat-ready and_ one _just barely started calling herself an agentdeal with a _level 9 _prisoner?!Are you _insane?! _Coulson was practically shouting at the end.  
-Agent Coulson! May I remind you of whom you are speaking to! You have been given your mission, and that is final! It needs to be done, and you are the only team available. You are dismissed. Coulson stared at Victoria Hand in disbelief, before turning and angrily stomping out of the room, silently asking himself how in the world he was going to tell his team that, at last, they had indeed broken one too many protocols.


	3. Briefings and choices

**_A/N:_**_ Thank you to those who followed and favorited my story, means a lot! Here's the next chapter- please review, any type of response is deeply appreciated! :)_

* * *

_Chapter 2- Briefings and choices_

\- _What _is taking them so long?! They have been in there for two hours straight! Why did Coulson request to talk to May and Ward alone? We're agents too! This isn't right, they can't just keep us in the dark like this!  
\- Skye, calm down, Jemma said with a sigh, probably for the thousand time. She was sitting in the sofa in the lounge, reading a book- or well, trying to read a book, but Skye kept on interrupting her. Fitz was sprawled over one of the chairs tinkering with a new gadget, and ignored Skye's latest outburst. She had gone on frequent rampages ever since they got back from the Hub to the Bus, and the three older agents had locked themselves in inside the briefing room. She would calm down for a bit, sit down and ponder some, and then with regular intervals stand up and start screaming again. Skye was currently angrily stomping back and forth in front of the two scientists, her hands balled up at her sides, her hair swinging so that she constantly had to blow it out of her face. At Jemma's answer, she stopped and stared at her friend.  
\- I'm not going to calm down. And you know as well as I that something is wrong! She said accusingly, and continued:  
\- We deserve to know what it is. They can't just keep it from us! We're a team! Jemma sighed and put her book down.  
\- Skye, I'm sure Coulson has a very good reason for wanting to talk to Ward and May first, you just have to trust him, Simmons told Skye in her most reasonable voice. Skye inhaled angrily, readying herself for a response- but then defeatedly released the air, and slumped deflated down beside the biochemist.  
\- It's not fair, she whined. Jemma put a hand on her knee, trying to comfort her friend. Just as she thought she might pick that book up again and see if she would be allowed to read, Skye sat up straighter and looked at her defiantly.  
\- I am going to hack into the system and spy on them, so that we can hear what they are saying. Jemma groaned and threw herself back at the sofa. Fitz barely glanced up from his project.  
-_No, _Skye, we talked about this! We are not spying on our superiors!  
\- Why not? Skye retorted, you know as well as I do that something is wrong. Jemma looked up at the hacktivist, and saw for the first time this day Skye not only looking angry, but also a bit scared. Of course Simmons knew something was wrong, as did Fitz. They might not have caught up on Ward and May behaving strangely, but even they detected the bad tension when Coulson came back and abruptly ordered them back to the bus, and even they reacted to the uncomfortable silence on the way back, and even they understood that something was seriously wrong when Coulson with a strained look on his face asked May and Ward to the briefing room. They just dealt with not knowing differently than Skye. Fitz was concentrating as hard as he could on his gadget, trying not to think of what it was they could not know yet. Simmons was trying to loose herself in her book, although to be fair to Skye, if she had not interrupted Jemma she would probably still have had a hard time to concentrate enough to read. She would probably just nervously have flipped through the pages, trying to distract herself. So she quietly answered Skye:  
\- I do. And I'm worried sick, she confessed, but I trust Coulson, and if he doesn't think we should know something just yet, we probably shouldn't know that something just yet. Skye looked at Jemma with apprehension, and then leaned back against the sofa next to her.  
\- It's just so damn hard not to know, to just sit here… and do nothing. With the way Ward spoke before… we might really be done for it this time. And I'm scared shitless. What if they have decided to split us up? Fitz drew a loud, shaky breath at this, revealing he might not be deaf to the girls' conversation after all, and then threw himself with renewed energy and concentration into his project. Jemma looked at him for a short time, then looked back at Skye, taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly. She gave Skye a small, wavering smile, also that meant to be reassuring. Skye sighed heavily and closed her eyes, squeezing Jemma's hand back. There was nothing more to be said. So Skye surrendered to her vividly swirling mind, providing her with images she did not wish to see.

* * *

_About two hours earlier_

\- May, Ward. Briefing room. Ward drew a breath, steeling himself, knowing this would be bad.  
\- Ward! His trainee who had just become an agent called out to him. She looked lost, and a bit scared. He gave her a small smile, before turning and following Coulson and May to the briefing room. Coulson put the room on lockdown as soon as Ward stepped through, which meant no one outside could hear or see anything happening on this side of the door. _If they don't hack themselves into the system, _Ward thought to himself, quietly hoping FitzSimmons would be able to stop Skye from doing so. Coulson stood with his back to the two of them, on the other side of the table.  
\- So, what's the verdict? May asked in a crisp tone.  
\- HQ has assigned us to a 0-9-7 mission, Coulson answered.  
\- They have _what? _Ward asked, disbelievingly. 0-9-7's were almost always extremely dangerous, which was why they were never assigned a team or person but was only to be taken up if there were agents volunteering. Either that, or they were uncomfortable enough that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't want to force anyone to do it, and that had to be pretty uncomfortable considering what was issued as regular missions. Perhaps it was only an extremely uncomfortable mission, they could deal with…  
\- How bad is it? May asked.  
\- It's bad, Coulson answered, finally turning and throwing a mission briefing on the table. It's bad enough, that I didn't want to tell the others until I've discussed it with you. I want your opinions, and I need to know that the two of you are aboard before I even consider letting the others accepting the mission.  
-Sir? I though you said it was assigned to us, do we have a choice in the matter? Ward asked, profoundly confused.  
\- There is always a choice, Coulson answered. When Ward looked like he still didn't understand a thing, he added:  
\- If the team decides we do not want the mission, I will dismantle this group. That will mean the relocation of all of you into new teams or other constellations, and all consequences of such actions will fall upon me. Considering even Skye is now officially an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., no one will face being thrown out of S.H.I.E.L.D. If any one of the other three does not want to participate in the mission, they have to choose between asking to be re-assigned to another team, which might look bad in their file and might result in some unpleasantries, or to quit S.H.I.E.L.D. altogether. Those are our choices.  
\- Oh, was all Ward could think of replying. In the meantime, May had started to read through the mission file. She looked up from it and onto Coulson.  
\- Why would S.H.I.E.L.D. agree to this arrangement? And why, no matter how badly we screwed up, would they ever think of assigning us _this_ as punishment? Coulson sighed in response.  
\- That's the really tricky part. Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D. needs the information the prisoner can divulge desperately, no one has volunteered and we are the best thing at hand. It makes me conflicted about the whole thing, although I will still be pissed at them for putting my team in such danger, if we were to accept the mission. Ward looked as puzzled as ever, and no surprise, seeming as he didn't know what the mission entailed as to yet. So May took pity on him and handed him the mission file, which he started to skim through immediately, a deep frown settling on his face as he did. When he put the mission briefing down, May turned to Coulson again.  
\- I think this could potentially be extremely dangerous for all involved. What bothers me most is the lack of information about the prisoner; it makes it difficult to assess the risk correctly. If this deal is a ruse from the prisoner's side to be able to escape, it will be very hard stopping her what with the terms of the agreements. And if she is set on escaping, I highly doubt she will have any qualms about what methods she has adopt in order to do so- and it will be very difficult to look after the other three agents and make sure they are safe. The question is whether she is practical and only focused on escaping, at which killing us might not be the only option, or if she enjoys killing and hurting people, in which case we are in a much greater danger. But then again, she might not look to escape at all.  
\- No? Coulson asked, isn't this obviously only set up so she can do just that?  
\- Not necessarily. Since HQ is getting the second part of the information they so desperately need _after _her stay with us, they have to believe there is a reasonably good chance of her returning. It is also highly likely that the information she is providing is from former employers, who ought not to be too happy with her. Thus, staying with S.H.I.E.L.D. might be her best option at the moment. Coulson nodded approvingly, but Ward looked hesitant.  
\- But even if she doesn't plan to escape, she might still…  
\- Pose a serious threat to all on the bus, Coulson filled in, yes. She might be very unstable and is obviously very lethal if she wants to be, otherwise she wouldn't be a level 9 prisoner. For all we know, she might be a sadistic psychopath. This is why I want your opinion on whether we should risk the mission, and if we do, I want your assurances that you will do everything necessary to keep our team safe, and device a plan to do so. Both May and Ward nodded, and then the discussion started for real. It went on and on, back and forth. They discussed the risk, and they discussed possible safety measures and whether or not they would be effective. They all took the time to read the mission file carefully, as to understand as much about the mission as was possible. After approximately three hours, Coulson exhaled loudly.  
\- I think it is time you made your decisions. May?  
\- If this is something that needs to be done, I think we should do it. I am willing to accept the mission, and I will of course go to any extra length necessary to keep the prisoner from harming anyone on the team. Coulson gave a sharp nod before turning to Ward.  
\- Well? How about you?  
\- I think the mission is extremely dangerous and still can't wrap my head around that they've assigned a level 9 prisoner to a six-man team, sir. But I accept, and will gladly take part in any extra safety measures needed.  
\- I guess it's time we brief the rest of our team, then, Coulson replied.

"_Agent Simmons, Agent Fitz, Agent Skye. Report to the briefing room immediately." _Coulson's words rang loudly throughout the quiet room the three agents were sitting in, startling them. Jemma sat up straight, tossing her book aside. Only, she tossed it in the stomach of Skye, who let out a loud "Ouf!". Fitz dropped his gadget on the floor, breaking it into a million pieces. He cursed under his breath silently, starting to scoop the parts together.  
\- Leave it, Fitz, Simmons said. She then looked to Skye, who had not jumped up and exclaimed "finally!" as she would have expected, but rather looked to be frozen in place.  
\- Well, come on then you two, let's go. No need to keep Coulson waiting, Jemma said in an overly care-free manner, her voice wavering only slightly. So the three nervous agents went to the briefing room, where Coulson quickly explained the situation, the possible danger, and their choices (interrupted only by Skye asking what a 0-9-7 was and if a level 9 prisoner was bad, considering how FItzSimmons paled). They were given the night to decide. Skye spent most of it researching "level 9 prisoners" and "the Casket"- very hard to find any information on, by the way, even for a hacker like Skye. There wasn't really a choice for her- this was her family, the only family she had ever had, and she was not giving them up for anything, so she tried to come to terms the best she could to the mission she had already accepted. FitzSimmons spent the night discussing with each other, alternatively quietly whispering to one another and alternatively standing up and angrily shouting at each another. When the morning came, the three agents one on one went to Coulson's office and told him they would accept the mission. At 9 a.m., the Bus left the ground and took course towards the Casket.


	4. First impressions

**_A/N: _**_Sorry for the long wait! Had a lot to do at school and when that was over there were some other stuff, and after that, well I simply had trouble finding any inspiration. But here's the third chapter for you! I'm feeling a bit uncertain about the story at the moment, so reviews are immensely appreciated! Any sort of response you have is most welcome and will definitely help speed up the next chapter, if you want one._

* * *

_Chapter 3- First Impressions_

They were all standing in the cargo hold, waiting. Fitz jumped a little as the door, situated on the small, concrete square that protruded from the small landing strip they had parked on, opened and a man stepped out. But it was only a lone S.H.I.E.L.D. agent carrying a crate, no prisoner in sight. She brought it up the ramp and to the agents waiting where he carefully put the crate down.  
-Agent Coulson? I'm Agent Bell. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent extended his hand, and Coulson shook it.  
-Nice to meet you, he replied.  
-This crate contains some biohazardous material that is to be studied at the Sandbox, it is your assignment to get it there unharmed. It is a bit unstable, so it needs to be handled with care, and should be kept at about 5°C at all times.  
-Oh! Oh! We can take care of that! Jemma exclaimed, eager to feel useful, and dragged Fitz along to find storage for the crate. Agent Bell gave them a slightly amused look as they shuffled off with the crate.  
\- And the prisoner? Coulson asked sternly, much less amused. Agent Bell turned to him and said:  
\- She will arrive shortly. She then gave the rest of the team a short, curt nod, turned around, and left the plane.  
\- Well, she was… Skye started in a sarcastic voice, but then fell silent. Not even she felt like joking right now.

A few minutes later and FitzSimmons had returned, telling Coulson the crate had been secured. So they all stood in nervous silence, until the door once again opened. This time, it was what they had waited for. She came escorted by six S.H.I.E.L.D. agents so geared up anyone would have mistaken them for a SWAT team. In front of the S.H.I.E.L.D./SWAT team came an agent dressed in a well-tailored suit, walking with an air of importance around him. The prisoner herself was mostly obscured from view, what with being surrounded by tall agents. Jemma and Skye both strained their necks trying to see the new addition to the Bus, but could at most glimpse some messy hair, an arm clad in black and some glistening handcuffs.  
\- She's quite short, isn't she? Much shorter than I imagined, Jemma whispered quietly in Skye's ear. Meanwhile, Fitz had shrunk back a bit with a frightened look, May and Ward had both straightened up and moved into a slightly protective position in front of the younger members of the team, whilst Coulson had taken a few steps forward to greet the entourage.  
\- Coulson, said the man in a suit as a manner of greeting as he extended a hand to the mentioned, I'm in charge here at the Casket, Agent Branston, you have probably read my name in reports.  
\- That I have, of course, Agent Coulson answered.  
\- Well then, you already have all the information, shall we get this over with? Coulson nodded, and Agent Branston motioned for the team to come up the ramp, which they did. The heavily-armed agents parted, and Coulson, May, Ward, Skye and FitzSimmons had their first good look at the small figure that was the level 9 prisoner. Agent Branston unlocked her restrains and then turned back to Coulson.  
\- There we go, she is now officially in your care. Good luck. And with that, he rather promptly left the airplane together with the other six agents. Coulson pushed the button to raise the cargo ramp.  
\- Welcome on board, Coulson said. I'm Agent Coulson, and this is Agent May, Agent Ward, Agent Simmons, Agent Fitz and Agent Skye. The agents in question were all staring intently at the scarred woman in front of them, but she seemed rather uninterested in them- looking around herself without staying her glance at any of them.  
\- You have a bunk upstairs where you will sleep, and we will show you that and how to get around and then we'll be off. Do you have any questions? The prisoner didn't answer nor looked at him, but continued to look around herself and absentmindedly rub her recently freed wrist. Fitz, a bit ashamed over his earlier cowering, leaned forward to Skye and Jemma and voiced what everyone was thinking;  
\- Well, she doesn't look too frightening, now does she? Only, he didn't say it quietly enough. For the before so uninterested prisoner suddenly turned her full attention at Fitz, boring into his eyes with an intense stare. He gave a little yelp and jumped backwards, and May and Ward stiffened. The prisoner's now alert eyes quickly assessed the group, and then before anyone could blink, had May pinned up against the wall in a deadly grip. Skye made an angry sound and moved to help her, but Grant stopped her with an arm, carefully watching the two women. The prisoner cocked her head slightly as she looked at May and spoke for the first time.  
\- So, you're their strongest fighter, huh. You do realise I could kill you in a matter of milliseconds like this? May looked back calmly, not moving a muscle. She was very good at assessing situations, and in this situation it was best to stay put and stay quiet. They stood like that for what felt like minutes for the team, until the prisoner cocked her head to the other side, still looking at May, and said:  
-I can find the empty bunk myself. She let May go, turned around and walked up the staircase without a backwards glance. Fitz gulped loudly.  
-Perhaps… a tinsy bit frightening, Fitz, Jemma said shakingly, as they all looked at eachother in shock. How were they going to survive having this woman on board for two whole weeks?


	5. Intermission

**A/N: Sorry for the extremely long wait, it's been ages. I've really been lacking in the inspiration department. I will try to finish the story, because I feel kind of bad leaving it unfinished, but it's rather long in my head and the task feels a bit...daunting. Please let me know if you want me to continue, and if you have any comments about the story! **

**Either way, I hope you enjoy the chapter! I'm not sure how well it turned out.**

**P.S. I'm so excited for AoS season 2! Skye looks bad-ass.**

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Chapter 4: Intermission

The first day was horrible, for all on board. Well, perhaps not for the prisoner, no one could really tell. It was not a very eventful day, but after the prisoner's initial show of power they were all on the edge, fidgety and constantly nervous. The worst part, as Jemma said to Fitz and Skye, was feeling so utterly in the hands of this person that they knew nothing about. They had quickly decided no one was to walk around on the Bus alone, not even May, Ward or Coulson, and that FitzSimmons always had to be in the present of one of the two specialists. It made things on the Bus… problematic, to say the least. You would find Coulson waiting outside the bathroom because Skye had to go to the loo, asking her to please hurry up because he was getting a video call that he needed to answer pronto, and then Skye, loudly protesting, were forced to wear sound-isolating ear-plugs and stare at the door the entire time since the conference was classified level 8. In the meantime, the cockpit was extremely crowded as it fit both May, Ward and FitzSimmons. May had decided they could at no point leave the cockpit unmanned, which the others agreed to, but it made the logistics of everyone moving about even more complicated. Later FitzSimmons were found searching the lab, where they were together with Ward and Skye, after a provisional toilet since the prisoner had eventually left her bunk and was now hanging around the Lounge, and Fitz refused to walk past her. The logistics were very complicated, but the worst part was going around with this constant fear, and it was like Skye once exclaimed, frustrated;  
-It's like someone has invaded our home but we're not allowed to do anything about it but have to quietly accept it, cowering around just hoping the bomb won't go off!

After a day of holding their breaths, night-time came and the prisoner receded to her bunk, which made everybody relax slightly. Coulson decided they were going to go with one of the more extreme sleeping-arrangements they had come up with before they picked up the prisoner: they were all going to sleep in the interrogation room, where they had dragged in mattresses. Since only Ward and May were certified to fly the Bus, one of them would have to be in the cockpit and alert at all times, even though the plane was set to autopilot. May took the first shift, with Simmons by her side. Simmons were supposed to sleep, but she instead peppered May with questions about flying, until May rather harshly told her to stop bothering her and go to sleep instead, at which Jemma turned to staring out into the night, until she fell into a restless sleep just a short time before the shift was over. In the interrogation room, Ward, Fitz and Skye were sleeping whilst Coulson was sitting guard, keeping an eye on the monitor-feed to make sure their unwelcome guest wasn't doing anything, and regularly checking in with May via comms. He noticed that Ward slept soundlessly, very specialist-like, Fitz talked in his sleep and that Skye tossed around quite a lot. Coulson worried Skye wouldn't be very well-rested when it was her turn, because several times that night she sat up abruptly, looked around, met Coulson's eyes before she slowly laid back down and went back to her fitful sleep. When it was time for the second shift, Coulson woke the rest of the people in the room, and Ward and Fitz went to the cockpit to change places with an alert May and a groggy Simmons. Back in the interrogation room it was Skye's turn to sit guard and monitor the situation, whilst the rest were supposed to sleep. Simmons had first protested the arrangement when she realized it meant her and Fitz being allowed a whole night's sleep (if interrupted with a change of sleeping place and half of it spent in a chair), whilst everyone else would stay up half of the night. But when Coulson pointed out it was because he needed a combat-ready person to be on the alert at all times, and that FitzSimmons weren't, she had reluctantly relented. But she felt bad, especially for Skye who, exactly like Coulson had predicted, didn't look very well rested when it was her turn to stay alert. So Jemma stayed awake for hours in the interrogation room, staring at the ceiling feeling bad for Skye and feeling nervous about the prisoner. But when she finally fell asleep, Coulson was still awake. He was wondering if he had made the wrong call, if he ought to have refused the mission at any cost. He was agonizing over putting his team, his people, in far too great of a danger. What if someone got hurt? What if someone died? It would be on him, and him alone. Perhaps it always was, but this felt different: it felt like unnecessary danger. He didn't even know why they were doing this, what S.H.I.E.L.D. would gain. He hated being kept out of the loop in this way, he knew he should trust the system to have a good reason for what they were doing, but if he had to be honest, his trust in the system had lessened and lessened ever since he came back from "Tahiti". So when he eventually did fall asleep to the sound of Skye's quick typing on the computer and regular, quietly whispered "everything OK, Ward?", it was with the heavy weight of his decision to let the prisoner on board the Bus pressing down on him, and one sentence bouncing around in his mind endlessly: "What have I done?"

Skye woke the others and alerted Ward when the computer told her of an increase of activity inside the prisoner's bunk, just as they had decided. They didn't have a camera in the bunk, but they had sensors. She felt wary, and was not looking forward to yet another day of tip-toing around with constant flutters in the stomach. When she thought about the previous day, she realized with a start that for all the energy it had drained from her, after the prisoner's dust with May, she had done exactly four things: stayed in her bunk; sat in the Lounge watching TV or the window; gone to the bathroom; or gone to the kitchen to get something to drink or eat. Skye gave a harsh laugh at this, at which Coulson raised an eyebrow, but she just shook her head in response. She realized that if every day for the rest of the two weeks went like the first one, they would be miraculously lucky. God, she wished this mission was over with already.

They arrived at the Sandbox that day, and they were all nervous about letting the prisoner out, but everything went without a hitch. The prisoner accepted the hand-cuffs without protesting, and walked around quietly with Ward, May and Coulson as her guards. FitzSimmons and Skye handled the hand-off, and got some much-needed time to relax a bit as they weren't in the immediate proximity of the prisoner. Their next mission was to monitor a patch of the Atlantic Ocean where a Chitauri toxic had been leaked. S.H.I.E.L.D. was in the process of mopping it up, and the team's mission was simply to make sure it didn't spread. The plane did all the readings on it's on, so all it entailed was keeping the plane on a set route to cover the area, to now and again veer off to a specific coordinate where there was a suspected spread or to see if all toxic had been successfully removed, and for FitzSimmons to keep an eye on the readings and make sure the data was being forwarded correctly to their people on the ground. In addition, they left the site for mainland to refill the gas. The mission was expected to go on for about a week. As time went by the prisoner continued to largely ignore the team, and as there were no more incidents they slowly started to relax a bit. Day 3, May, Ward and Coulson started to walk between places on their own, and Coulson decided that it was enough if either himself or Skye were with FitzSimmons at all times, it did not need to be one of the specialists. Skye gleefully called it "babysitting", much to Fitz's dismay. Day 4 Skye was allowed to walk between places on her own, and the senior agents no longer felt it was necessary for them to always be with someone: Coulson would now and again lock himself up in his office, May stayed alone in the cockpit, Ward cooped up in his bunk with a book for a while. FitzSimmons' babysitting was loosened, it was enough that someone else was in the vicinity and between them and the prisoner, for example Ward and Skye training in the cargo hold whilst they worked in the lab. The night routine was eased up upon, Ward and May spent their shifts alone in the cockpit leaving FitzSimmons in the interrogation room. The next night they even allowed themselves some light sleep in the cockpit. Day six they no longer had any official rules about who had to accompany who, although Coulson made sure to recommend they not spend time alone and they were all constantly on comms, keeping track on each other. The prisoner? She kept doing… nothing. She'd be in her bunk, sometimes closed door, sometimes open at which the team members could see her reading a book. She'd watch TV, or look out the window, or sometimes sit at the kitchen table writing. She'd go to the bathroom, and she'd make herself food, always at a different time from the team. That was it. It was very non-threatening behaviour, and the longer time that passed since the prisoner threatened of May, the less threatening she seemed. With every shower she took her hair started to look a bit more normal, and her scars, whilst scary, they got used to. She continued to ignore them, and she never more than glanced over them, so the team had no opportunity to become scared off by the look in her eyes. When she was allowed off the Bus she quietly allowed the cuffs and then walked around outside, not doing anything particularly frightening. The team started to get used to her, and life on the bus was almost the same as before the prisoner came, only with this quiet presence onboard that no one talked to or about or around, and avoided at most times.

In retrospect, Coulson thinks he should have understood that it was just an intermission. That it couldn't last. He blames himself for not reminding everyone daily how dangerous the prisoner was, how careful they must be, constantly vigil. He blames himself for going lax on the safety routinge- although if he is fair to himself, having the strict rules from the first day probably wouldn't have made any real difference. But perhaps if they had stayed more alert, been more careful, they wouldn't have set her off? Although honestly, it was such a tiny thing that set her off, and he doesn't even understand why, that no matter how careful they could have been they probably would have set her off sooner or later, it would have only been a matter of time. As it was, it happened on the 9th day the prisoner was on the plane. It was such an innocent thing really, and no one could figure out why it had set her off. Jemma had been baking buns (well, they were frozen-ready and all she had had to do was to put them in the oven for ten minutes, but still) to celebrate that all Chitauri toxic had been cleared and they were finally allowed to leave their patch of the ocean. Just as she put the last bun on a plate the prisoner exited her bunk, heading for the sofa and the TV. Suddenly, Simmons felt sorry for her. She knew she was probably a horrible person and all, but no one had talked to her the whole week, and she guessed the prisoner probably hadn't had that many people to talk to in the Casket, either. Also, she had seen what kind of food the prisoner had taken for herself, and she figured she might appreciate a bun. So, sweet, sweet Jemma took courage and said:  
\- Would you like a bun...sorry, I don't know what to call you..? The prisoner turned and looked at Jemma, who didn't flinch, because she wasn't met with the dead glare the negotiator had, but with a rather confused one.  
-I… the prisoner started to say. And then, the confusion went away, and the bomb that they had started to think wouldn't go off exploded.


	6. The explosion

_**A/N: This is a shorter chapter, hope you like it! As always, a review would make my day (or week, or year, whatever). Thanks for following and favoriting!**_

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Chapter 5: The explosion

_\- Would you like a bun...? Sorry, I don't know what to call you? she said, that scientist who seemed too gentle to be an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and definitively too gentle to be around her. She didn't have a name, not really anyways.  
__\- I… she stuttered. What was she going to say? She could say Rebecca, she supposed, that what she had let them call her… and just like that she woke up from her dazed state. In a matter of a second, a million thoughts ran through her head. "They've forgotten. They're forgetting. They don't know. But they will find out and then… I can't let this happen again I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't… No." Her confusion switched to cold calculation, and she acted._

Everything happened so fast. Simmons saw the prisoner's confused look being replaced by something cold and sinister, and that look in her eyes… that dead, terrifying look made her cringe back and by the time she did, the prisoner had crossed the room and was pinning her against the fridge, holding a large butcher's knife to Jemma's throat, drawing blood, staring at her with those eyes that were dead inside… Jemma screamed. Ward, who had just been on his way up the staircase, came running and drew his gun. He stopped as the gun was knocked out of his hand by a swirling knife and then a second flying knife drew blood from his left ear as it swished by and lodged itself in the TV. Then Jemma, who'd been momentarily released, found herself lifted off the ground against the fridge, unable to speak or breathe properly as an arm was pressing hard against her windpipes, causing the gash at her throat to bleed profoundly. Ward took a step forward to rush to Simmons aid, and without letting go of Jemma the prisoner sent a third knife at Ward, which licked his temple and then stuck itself neatly in the TV, right next to the other one. Ward froze in place. This was the scene the rest of the team walked into, perhaps ten seconds after Simmons had asked the prisoner if she wanted a bun. Skye came running first, and it took her some time to make sense of what was going on in the kitchen. When she had, she let out an angry scream and started to move towards the spectacle, but by then May had arrived and she quickly caught her and dragged Skye behind her, away from the prisoner, Simmons and Ward. Then came Coulson, his eyes slowly taking in what was happening and his face setting in a grim frown, he slowly and quietly moved over to May and Skye, keeping his distance to the prisoner. When Fitz came stumbling up the stairs he froze at what he saw in front of him, and Coulson quickly made a motion for him to join them, but when Fitz stayed frozen in place, Coulson went to get him, all the while Fitz was muttering "what…what…". Both May and Coulson realized how precarious the situation was, and that they needed to let Ward handle it and not threaten the prisoner, because then she might decide to do quick work with Simmons in order to have her hands free to deal with the others.

Ward slowly extended his arms, showing his empty hands, as he intently watched the two women in front of him.  
\- Let her go, Ward said in a low, threatening voice. The prisoner snorted.  
\- Or what? Big boy, you're not very scary. Sorry.  
\- _Please_, let her go, Ward pleaded.  
\- Now, why would I do that? The prisoner asked, cocking her head and regarding Simmons with mild, detached interest as Simmons struggled and gasped for air.  
\- She hasn't done anything to you! Ward said, frustrated and afraid of not being able to save their scientist.  
\- That might be true, the prisoner answered slowly, but then again, you're all agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. I don't particularly like S.H.I.E.L.D.  
\- She isn't even cleared for field-work. She's defenceless. I'd think that a level 9 prisoner would choose someone who was a bit more of a challenge. The prisoner raised an eyebrow in a smirk;  
\- Are you offering, Agent Ward? At this time, Jemma was starting to look blue and the blood was turning more and more of her white shirt crimson red. Skye let out a small sob behind May.  
\- Yes, yes, Ward said hurryingly and desperately, I am.  
\- Ward, Coulson said in a warning tone, but Ward continued to look only at the scene in front of him. The prisoner turned to look at him again. She cocked her head, and seemed to consider. The team held their breaths.  
\- Okay, she said slowly. You and me then. No one is allowed to interfere. We fight until one of us is unconscious. No weapons. See you in the cargo hold in… one hour. And with that, she released Simmons who sunk to the ground, and left the kitchen. Ward was there in a second, pressing a towel gently to her wound. The others were there to help in a heartbeat, and they carried her down to the lab where Simmons, in a croaked voice, explained what they were to do in order to help her.  
\- What just happened, Fitz asked in a shaky voice, holding Jemma's hand and desperately looking around for some kind of answer. Skye, however, was looking at Ward, arms crossed over her chest protectively.  
\- What did you just agree to? Skye said, in barely a whisper. Ward shook his head looking down;  
\- I don't know, he answered quietly, and when he looked up, Skye could see fear written in his face.


	7. The fight

_**A/N: Finally, here's another chapter! Shout-out to Awwwww(ww?) for reviewing, it gives me a boost and makes me excited to write! Hope you'll enjoy what you read, this one was very intense to write.**_

_**Warnings: Contains some gruesome violence and psychological reactions to the same.**_

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Chapter 6: The fight

After giving Simmons the immediate care she required, and she had assured them all she would be fine, FitzSimmons and Skye were rushed into the storage room as Coulson, May and Ward wished to deliberate the situation in private. They would have done it the other way around, but wouldn't let the younger agents be alone in the more exposed laboratory- as it was, the prisoner would have to get through the lab to get to the storage room, and the trio in the back was as safe as they could be. At first there was a quick debate of whether they ought to secure the cockpit and important and dangerous equipment, but this was quickly decided against. They agreed that the prisoner would most probably honor the arrangement made and not cause any other major problems in the remaining hour- the fact that she had stayed inactive until now spoke against her cooking up some kind of escape plan or destroy-S.H.I.E.L.D.-plan. In addition, if they were to go upstairs to take safety measures, they might do something to set her off and God know what would happen then. She was very unpredictable, that was for certain, proved when Simmons repeatedly mumbled "I only asked if she wanted a bun… a bun…" incredulously to herself. Before he was pushed into the storage room, Fitz had asked if they ought to contact HQ, but Coulson had bitterly shook his head and said: "No, there's nothing they can do for us that would help. Besides, she might get upset if she finds out we do." When that was over with, they discussed at length if there was any way for Ward to get out of fighting the prisoner. Eventually it was Ward who said:  
\- Enough. We're wasting time. I can't get out of the fight without risking her lashing out in some more dangerous, unpredicted way. There's nothing more to it. There was a brief quiet.  
\- At least she said "until one is unconscious", that's something, Coulson said hesitantly. May turned to Ward with a firm look.  
\- I would tell you to get knocked unconscious as soon as possible, but I think she would see through that and it would most likely aggravate her, so I recommend against that. Ward nodded seriously.  
\- You have no chance of winning, May said brusquely, so what you need to focus on is minimizing your damages and try to slow her down, in the best scenario you can force her to end the fight quickly. Also, even though she said until one is unconscious she might get carried away- we do not know. Do your best at minimizing her chances at using deadly violence. You also want to avoid… May went on giving Ward a quick lesson on how to best handle a smaller, more agile and more skilled attacker. He tried to take it all in and keep the fear at bay. He focused on the fight and pushed other thoughts out of his head- he was a specialist after all, he knew how to do this. Meanwhile, Coulson went back to the storage room to check on Jemma. Sooner than they would have liked, their hour of respite was up.

It was brutality. There were no tearing of limbs, no gauging of eyes or things equal, but that was about what could be said. The team watched helplessly from the side-lines of the prisoner's hastily drawn-up square, and the fight dragged on mercilessly for one, two long, agonizing hours. Afterwards they would all remember it differently. For Fitz, it was all about the blood. The sickening abundance of red everywhere before eyes. His undoing was when a spray of Wards blood -_an-honest-to-God-SPRAY-of-blood- _hit the audience, at which he rushed inside the lab to puke until there was nothing left to be puked up. He then slid down to the floor curling up into a ball, slowly rocking back and forth whimpering, trying to erase the shades of red flashing before his tightly closed lids. There were no sounds in his memory, he never heard the prisoner telling Ward to wrap it up before they continued.

On the contrary, it were the unrelenting, grating sounds that made the strongest impression on Skye. There were no music in the background, no epic, powerful doom piece to make you believe the fight that was happening was somehow heroic or meaningful. There were just _the sounds. _There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Of bodies scraping against the rough metal floor. Of skulls, elbows, shoulders slamming into the floor with a loud bang. The sound of skin tearing. The sickening cracks of bones breaking. The whooshing of blood. The popping of joints. The groaning of limbs being twisted in ways they would not go. The splashing of blood, and the sound as it hit her face. A hoarse, horrible voice telling him to wrap it up- _then they'll continue- _accompanied by the sounds of violent vomiting from behind her. Hair being torn out by its roots with a "ritch". And, at one point, an ear-piercing scream emitted from Wards lips, paired with the revolting grating of nails rasping against bones and the disgusting sound of digging through flesh as the prisoner had four of her fingers buried deep inside Ward's thigh. May's low, shocked whisper: "It shouldn't be possible".

With a grim, stoic face, May did her best to try and focus on the fighting technique. She didn't like what she saw. The prisoner had one of the rawest, most brutal styles she had ever witnessed. Her every move was designed to cause maximum harm, and she seemed hell-bent on dragging out the pain and the fight as long as she could. May would normally say that such fighting meant a sadist- but there were zero emotion in the prisoners movements, actions or facial expressions. It was as if she was a relentless machine, deprived from higher thinking. Worse, she seemed deprived of feeling pain herself_. _She would hold Ward in positions granted immensely painful for him, but leaving him free to hit her- _hard- _in the rib cage. Bones moved around. She didn't budge, didn't even seem to notice. She never left any fatal openings, but other than that she seemed to almost _relish_ in Ward hurting her although she clearly had the capacity to prevent it, and to May's dismay Ward's most impressive maneuvers that would have left any other opponent gasping, didn't even slow her down. May tried to focus on coming up with how to counter such a fighting style, should she have to, but behind her eyes Bahrain was playing out in its gruesomeness, and her helplessness and guilt toward what was happening before her threatened to crush her down and drag her into the abyss.

Ward himself wasn't aware of his team's torture; he was too wrapped up in his own. For him, it was all pain. Pain, and hopelessness. After a while he couldn't really tell what the different injuries he had was, he was just a big blob of pain, with even more intense pain spiking through him from certain areas now and again. Pretty soon he had discovered there was no way out of it. He fought, oh, he fought like he never had before, did things he never thought he could have, and he _knew _he hurt Her, the bringer of pain. But the pain persisted, never even swaying in intensity. There was no respite except that once, when his blood had rushed out, and he thought: "This is it. I'll be unconscious before I know it and then, then the pain will end". But it didn't end. A voice cut through the pounding in his ears, telling him to wrap it up and then the pain would continue to come, continue to escalate. So he tore his shirt and wrapped his arm, preventing sweet oblivion, and then the respite was over. And so the pain kept coming, and he kept fighting, even though he long had given up hope. He fought for no real reason but to continue, and in his mind there was only now, only pain, hopelessness and fight, no light at the end of the tunnel.

Jemma on the other hand was concentrating on that light, on making it possible. She kept herself distant by concentrating solely on the medical aspect, and what she would do to take care of Ward once the fight ended. She kept the injuries she witnessed sterile in her mind; text on paper, X-rays, a puzzle to be solved. "I need to stop the most vicious bleeding first, give him blood… what blood-type is he again? I probably need to sterilize the wounds too because I can't afford to re-open them but it needs to be done fast because I need to address the inner damages as soon as possible… I will probably have to do emergency surgery… Most broken bones will have to wait, did that rib pierce his lung? I will need to check for brain injury…" and on it went. In one way she was the most okay of them all, but she was only a small step, one little lapse, away from crashing. Hers was a fragile hold on sanity, and one small realization of the reality of the injuries she treated in her head and she would fall apart. For the rest of her life her nightmares would be haunted by the long list of damages on a body in her head, subtly screaming about a pain and cruelty far beyond her minds capacity to accept.

If Simmons made sure to keep a distance to what was happening, Coulson was the opposite. He felt every hit on his own body, every scratch on his own skin. Every low grunt was a dagger thrust deep inside his heart, twisting. The despair over what he had done, what he was putting his team through, _what he was putting Ward through, _multiplied with every long second that passed. He had never fiercely hated himself as much as he did those two hours. For those two hours, all six of them were stuck in a different hell, and the seventh person on the bus? For her…

_It was bliss. Finally, I could let it all go. There was no thinking when I fought, no feeling. I was a machine, and machines are relieved of feelings and thoughts. I knew the fight better than the back of my hand, and the familiarity of it was heavenly comforting. I noticed to my enjoyment that he was rather good at fighting, better than most that I had fought. His hits caused raw pain to spike through my body, and oh the assuaging familiarity of it. The fresh sting of pain keeping me soundly anchored in the fight, firmly pushing everything else away. Finally, I could lose myself. Finally, I didn't have to feel confused- in fighting I knew exactly what to do. It was bliss._

Simmons ended it. After two hours, the callous mathematical calculation in her head started not to equal certain survival, and in a mechanical voice, not really thinking about it, she said;  
\- You need to stop now. Her words penetrated the minds of those around her, and four pair of eyes turned to stare at her- not the least the prisoner's. Under her dead, cold stare the very real possibility of dying a brutal death within seconds slapped Jemma in the face with force, and she started to tremble.  
\- I… I… I m...m...mean… y…you said…unconsciousness…he…he…can't take much more…or he'll die for sure. The prisoner measured her up, and tears started to pool in Jemma's eyes as she did her best not to scream, turn around and run for her life. The rest of the team stood in stunned silence. Then the prisoner looked down at the bloody and broken Ward, and as her hand flashed out Coulson let out a small, throaty but immensely desperate "No!". He was certain she was going to kill him, then move over to Jemma and then finish the rest of them. His hand was half stretched out in a hopeless gesture, he was sure it was the end. But as the prisoner turned it looked like Ward was still breathing, simply knocked unconscious according to terms. She looked them all squarely in the eyes, one at a time, then she slowly ascended the stairs and left their sight. It was over.


	8. The other side

**A/N: So it's been crazy long since I updated. Inspiration has been nowhere in sight. To be honest, it is probably highly unlikely I will finish this story, but hey, you never know. Anyhow, the will to write this chapter appeared out of the blue, so I did. Hope you enjoy it! Reviews are cookies and cream :)**

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Chapter 7: The Other Side

_The flurry of movements that she could hear as soon as she was out of sight from the little gang downstairs somewhat amused her. She lingered a little, finding herself a bit curious as to how they would all react. To her surprise it was that doctor, that small, fragile little doctor who had been so terrified and helpless when she'd held her against the fridge, that took control over the situation. That Jemma-chick sounded very business-like, in control and calculating, as she ordered the others around. "Kudos to her", she thought to herself, and then she continued on her way to her bunk. She should probably get out of the way, she had made her point and the team was already on the edge enough: she didn't want tension to get out of hand so that they'd do something stupid and this whole somewhat-freedom deal would break. She really didn't want to go back to the Casket before her time was up. After so many years locked up tight… this was heaven, and she be damned if she let her respite be cut short. Besides, she needed to look after her own injuries, so she went to her bunk and locked it tight- more for their sake than her own, so that they could feel certain of where she was. She wondered what they would do now. Probably call it in, after they had looked after his worst injuries. Get to the closest S.H.I.E.L.D. hospital. She was certain she would be allowed to stay, after all, S.H.I.E.L.D. still needed her information just as bad, and the stand-off was already _over_, nothing they could do about it, and she had kept to the deal she'd made with the specialist. And she knew he would survive, she knew his injuries. It was good that doctor had told her to stop though- she hadn't thought about when enough was enough; usually when she fought, someone else would always told her when to stop, when to continue, and when to end it. That was really stupid on her part: she had set out for non-life threatening injuries, but then hadn't decided when to stop beforehand and when she'd started… It really was very stupid. And could have ended badly. She suddenly felt _very _grateful to the Simmons-agent, what a rookie mistake, and if she hadn't called out…. She pressed down her emotions hard, and with the practice of many years. It was all as it should be, after all, the plan had worked fine. They were afraid of her, terrified, as well as they should be, and they would be keeping their distance. And as long as they kept their distance, and remembered the monster she was, she wouldn't lapse. See she couldn't lapse, not again, not since that last time. And as long as she didn't lapse, she would be okay. And as long as she didn't lapse, they would stay alive. Those two things were all that mattered, really. She went to work with the make-shift first-aid kit she had assembled over the days being here, stitching herself up, setting bones, popping joints back in. And in a routine so automatic it could only come from a lifetime of doing the same, she pressed hard on every bruising she had, making her injuries hurt ten times worse, and making marks that would stay on her body for a long time._

\- Sir I really don't want to do this… Jemma said with a weak voice, but Coulson cut her off.  
\- And I really don't want to make you do this, Jemma, but there's no other choice. The protocol is clear, and so was head-quarter. I would do it myself but I don't have the medical experience necessary. Me and May will be right beside you, and I honestly don't believe anything will happen- she has made her point quite clear, but she stayed to the agreements of the fight and didn't go for any of us. Ward is stable and we are on route to a hospital. The prisoner's injuries _needs _to be looked after. Coulson fixed Jemma with a stern look.  
\- I… I… she stuttered, then resigned and nodded her head yes, and the trio went up towards the prisoners bunk. Coulson knocked and announced them, May standing rigidly besides Simmons:  
\- We're here with a first-aid kit, if you would let us in so we could have a look at your injuries..? The door slided open, and Jemma gasped at the sight before her. The prisoner was in the process of taking care of one of her wounds, pouring alcohol straight into it without wincing and then starting to stitch with a needle that was way too thick, and by the force it took to drive through the skin, not nearly sharp enough. She sowed five stitched as the agents watched dumbstruck, before she ripped the thread with her teeth in a move that made Jemma flinch with how much it pulled at the raw wound, and then after knotting it pressed her hand at the wound, making it leak blood around the stitches. She looked up at them with a blank look.  
\- That won't be necessary, she said, devoid of emotions, then she shut the doors in their faces.  
\- That was… why would she… how… what WAS that?! Jemma exclaimed, shocked. Coulson gently led her back towards the lab, feeling just as confused as her. When they returned Skye and Fitz looked visibly relieved at their unharmed state, and Jemma started checking Ward's vitals again, trying desperately to understand _why _anyone would do what the prisoner was doing. May, on the other hand, had not looked surprised at what she had seen in the bunk: her expression had been one of hard understanding. Now that they were back at the lab, she quickly dragged Coulson to the side.  
\- We need to talk, she hissed. I think I know who that girl is.


	9. Re-grouping

**_A/N: _**_This chapter is dedicated to Theman, thank you for your review: it made a world of difference. Granted, it took about a month to rise up to the challenge, but still. The truth is that it is very hard to feel as if someone cares about your story whilst sitting alone in your room with your computer, so pushes are needed. Also thank you Bebe558 for your review! I will try to make more of an effort to keep the story going. The best way to speed that up is to keep those reviews coming! :) Constructive criticism and thoughts on the story as a whole are very welcome._

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Chapter 8: Re-grouping

They were directed to a small S.H.I.E.L.D. base outside Norway's northern coast- unmapped and private. When they landed, a medical team rushed inside and quickly started to roll Ward towards the hospital facilities, taking Simmons with them and firing off rapid questions her way on her patient's condition. Before she disappeared out the cargo hold she turned around and gave her nervous teammates a tenuous smile with the words "I think it will be all right", before running out into the cold and towards the fast disappearing medical professionals.

It wasn't snowing outside, but it was windy enough to whip up a snowy mist off the ground which significantly decreased visibility, and the remaining four in the cargo hold were therefor taken by surprise when through the white fog appeared three figures, marching forward with purpose. May was dismayed by this, but after the days they had had she gave herself some leeway: besides, her mind was otherwise occupied, spinning with the puzzle-pieces she had just recently put together and the dizzying picture they painted. She hadn't had the opportunity to pull Coulson aside and tell him what she had meant with her startled words after watching the prisoner put herself together, and she could tell by his repeated glances that he was dying to know. In a way she was glad of the respite, it gave her time to compose herself, wrap her head around things as her head was currently still reeling with the new information given. Either way, with May's concentration otherwise occupied, and let's face it: the others thought weren't exactly organised and calm either, they all jumped slightly as the three dark figures approached them. Fitz may also have given a small, high-pitched "Oh!", although he would later fervently deny it, and curiously, when Skye months later went back to the security footage to prove him wrong, it had been deleted. The front-figure of the group, however, was not very intimidating. It was a slightly plump man of average height, and he had a very nervous face. There was a visible sheen of sweat on his brow, despite the cold, and his eyes kept darting around. His movements were slightly skittish, and in his very thick, bright blue winter-coat he had a hard time presenting a respectable figure. In addition, his nose was running- he kept wiping at it- and his ginger, sad moustache was dripping as the snow was melting off him.  
\- So… so… Is she here? Honestly… We are only a small base…*sniff* We're not really equipped for this… The man tried to look behind them all, eyes searching. Despite the dire situation, Coulson couldn't help but be a bit amused with the man. Skye made a small snorting noise at the sight of the man and May cocked a sceptical eyebrow.  
\- No, she isn't here, Coulson answered calmly, she is in her bunk, and we will be alerted if she were to leave it.  
\- Oh, the man said, and relaxed slightly. Well, I guess I should introduce myself, I'm Agent Stevenson, head of this base, it is a pleasure sir, a real pleasure! He extended his hand and shook Coulson's vigorously.  
\- Agent Coulson, Coulson replied and was awarded with a smile.  
\- Oh, I know, Agent Stevenson replied, I know that of course, hahaha! The laugh was a little too high pitched to go over as entirely relaxed. The woman behind him gave a small cough as to draw attention. If Agent Stevenson made less than a stellar impression, the two agents behind him more than made up for it. The two women were dressed all in black combat gear, adapted to the weather, were both armed and wore matching stoic and fierce expressions, sharp eyes taking in their surroundings carefully. The woman who had coughed wore a couple of batons on her hip, which struck Skye as a bit unusual.  
\- Oh, yes! Agent Stevenson proclaimed, still in a slightly frantic voice. HQ thought you guys needed a break after the, uh, incident, so they shipped these two fine specialists our way, and if the prisoner accepts they will be in charge of her custody during your stay here. This is Agent Morse and Agent Palamas.  
\- Sir, they both replied with a small nod of the head. Coulson gave them both warm smiles.  
\- Agents, he said with a responding nod, I've heard a lot of great things about both of you. Was there anything else, Agent Stevenson, or should we get started with the temporary transition?  
-Ah, the man said, well… no… not at the moment. You're all to report at the base and there's forms to be filled out and so on… and I think you might have a video-call waiting for you from HQ Agent Coulson… but for now… well I don't need to stay for the transition, I'm sure you all can handle it perfectly well… I'll see you in a bit then! And with that the sweating man promptly turned around and practically ran out the cargo hold and into the snow.  
\- What, was it something I said? Skye said sarcastically, and Agent Morse snorted. The two agents made eye-contact and shared a moment of understanding. "I like her", Skye thought to herself. Coulson looked at the younger agent with tired amusement, before he showed the two specialists into the lab to give them a run-down of the situation. Luckily, when Coulson later carefully breached the subject of two other specialists escorting the prisoner and living in the bus for a while, of course under the original agreement, the prisoner couldn't seem to care less. So a couple of hours after they had landed they could all finally leave the Bus and head towards the compound, and it was with such a great relief they did so that Skye couldn't help but feel sad as she glanced back to the airplane; it was supposed to be home. Then she hurried after the others as not to lose them in the fog.

The four of them did not, as they had been directed by the two specialists, head toward the main building. Instead, they swerved left and went straight for the medical facilities, where they asked to be shown to Ward. The nurse behind the desk looked them up and down sceptically and asked to see Coulson's credentials.  
\- Well, she said after a while examining them and clicking on her computer, pushing her glasses up her nose. I'm afraid that at the moment it will not be possible for you to see Agent Ward. In addition, I can see that you are supposed to have reported to the main office by now.  
\- That's BULLSHIT, exclaimed Skye and slammed her hand down on the table, at the same time as Fitz demanded:  
\- Why the hell can't we see our injured teammate? What kind of a person ARE you? The nurse scoffed, unimpressed.  
\- Procedures have to be followed, AND, she continued before the younger agents had time to voice their disapproval again, your friend is currently undergoing extensive surgery, and is not expected out any time soon. I can tell you that he is doing reasonably well; there have been some minor complications but nothing unexpected and nothing that couldn't be fixed. The doctors are optimistic of the outcome of the surgery. Now shoo, away with you to the main office. The stern-looking woman waved them away with a hand, but beneath the somewhat harsh words a considerable kindness seeped through. So, somewhat having reassured their aching worry, the team made their way towards the main buildings. There, they were met by an array of things requested of them, forms, interviews, reports, evaluations, mandatory individual therapy sessions and for Coulson's part; and endless amount of explaining, arguing, being berated and discussing the continuation with all those involved in the mission they had unwillingly landed some time ago.

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The days went by in a flurry where they all had little or no time for private conversations, and although Coulson was burning up with the need to know what May had figured out, he realised that conversation would have to wait until they left the base: here, they were almost constantly under watchful eyes, and you could never be truly certain no one or no_thing_ was listening in. Since they had not been given the identity of the prisoner beforehand, he doubted the higher-ups would be happy that they had figured it out themselves. It was a relief for the team to be at a distance from the prisoner (who Agent Morse and Agent Palamas seemed to be handling well), but it was far from a restful time for all of them. When they weren't grilled on details of what had transpired on-board the bus, or having their mental state evaluated, they spent most of their time at Ward's side, worrying and waiting. He had come through the surgery all right, and was now in a medically induced coma in order for his body to get some rest and recover. The doctors estimated he would wake up on the fifth to the seventh day, and that he, thankfully, would be able to make a full recovery- after some extensive recovery period. Skye was shocked when the doctors told them- _as if it was good news- _that Ward could be expected to be allowed back into the field in about 6 months if everything went well. So their days at the remote base were spent in anxious waiting, always feeling as they were being watched and never free to talk together freely, and with frayed nerves constantly on edge- after all, they would have to continue their mission soon. Coulson had once again given everyone the opportunity to opt out (although when he mentioned aborting the mission to Agent Hand or giving it to someone else she practically went ballistic, yelling at him that that was not an alternative, and that was a _direct order). _But, being the people they were, his team were all determined to see the mission through, despite their individual and collective fear of what might happen next.

On the fifth day at the unnamed base, Ward woke up. He took the news of his prolonged benching with a stoic face when Nurse Wilkinson(as the team had come to know the stern but nice nurse they had met the first day and plenty of times after that) told him. Skye thought that the incident, as they all had begun to call it for the perks of distancing themselves, had left deeper scars than those visible on Ward's body but, being the T-1000 he was, that wasn't something he let show. They had barely had time to give him hugs and encouraging words, before their imminent departure was ordered. According to Hand, they had already been overly-indulged by being allowed to stay until Ward woke up and was considered out of danger by the medical team. So merely hours after they had been able to welcome Ward back into the world of the conscious, they were forced to hug him goodbye with promises to keep in touch, and oaths to keep themselves safe, or, as Ward put it, he would have to come and save their asses- recovered or not.

They all boarded the bus with a mixture of feelings, dread of course but also a sort of relief of finally finishing the mission and leaving it behind them for always. Three agents were waiting for them in the cargo hold. They shook hand with Agent Morse and Agent Palamas and Coulson thanked them for their help, before the specialists took their leave and he turned to the third agent. When Hand had stated that they would need to boost their team with another specialist as a replacement for the one they had lost in Ward, Coulson had asked for Agent Morse, or if she was unavailable, Agent Palamas. This was however not possible as they were both needed for other missions. He had therefor been forced to accept the addition of a specialist to his team he knew little to nothing about, courtesy of Agent Hand, and he was not overly happy about it. He turned to the brightly smiling agent and extended his hand with a small, reserved smile.  
\- Welcome on-board, Agent Triplett I assume?  
\- Yes sir, and may I say, it's an honour sir, he replied happily, unfazed with the cold reception. Do you want me to start up the engines? In response to that, May gave him a deadly stare as she ascended the stairs, heading towards the cockpit.  
\- I guess not, Agent Triplett said, and winked at Skye, who gave him a small smile back: after all, it wasn't his fault he'd been sent to replace Ward. Fitz felt differently, and he was glaring at Triplett with vehemence in his eyes. Simmons and Coulson were both carefully examining him. "He has excellent bodily physique", Simmons couldn't help but think to herself. "Buckle up, ten seconds to take off", May's voice echoed through the cargo hold, and they all went to find a seat. Ten seconds later they were on their way again, leaving the island behind them with one new team-member on board, and one reluctantly left behind.


End file.
